Page 24 of Bulletproof Love

I snap out of it and give him the finger. “Be right back. And make sure they tell Blake that I love her.”

“Anything else, dear?”

God, he’s irritating. “Yes, go play in traffic.”

“Might be too late at night for that. Will have to wait for rush hour.” He smirks and turns away, leaving me scowling at his retreating frame.

I take an extra long shower, letting the hot water loosen some of the tension in my shoulders. It helps, even if only for a few minutes. Wrapped in a towel that barely covers my ass, I open the door, letting the steam billow out.

“Jesus Christ,” I yell, almost losing the grip on my towel. Jasper’s leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom, waiting for me. “Why are you standing there like that?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Well… don’t. It’s creepy.” I pull my towel tighter and head toward my room, Jasper following close behind. “Did the guys answer?”

“Yeah, no changes. They’re keeping her for the night to watch for a secondary reaction. I guess that can sometimes happen hours later. Leon answered the text. I think Damon’s still losing his mind.” His voice hitches, sending a flutter through my chest.

“Thanks for checking in.” We linger at my bedroom door, both drained from the day, but not quite ready to breathe yet. I don’t know whether to feel relieved that all is well, or hang on to the anxiety. My body wants to decide for me—worry. “Let me know if you hear anything else.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. He turns to go, but pauses. “Try and get some sleep, okay?”

He sounds so gentle, so caring, that I want to pull him by his shirt and throw him onto my bed. But I don’t. I nod, and close the door before I do something I’ll regret.

Sleep won’t come no matter how hard I try. Every time I close my eyes, I see Blake’s terrified face. We’re always so careful with her allergies—checking labels twice, grilling waiters, carrying her EpiPen. Yet somehow, I failed her today. I can’t believe I let this happen.

Needing a distraction, I grab my phone from the floor where it’s charging. Not having a bedside table isn’t something I’ll ever grow accustomed to… but at least my bed is near an outlet.

The pull to analyze that party invitation is strong, but work mode means thinking and thinking means no sleep. I dive into mindless scrolling instead.

Teenager lip-syncing.Swipe.

Amateur standup.Swipe.

Baby hippo learning to swim… Okay, that’s fucking adorable.

I swipe up and something familiar catches my eye. My heart stops. What in the hell? Someone recorded us at the restaurant. There’s Blake laying on the floor. Me kneeling beside her, holding her hand. That doctor who appeared out of nowhere like a guardian angel.

The view count makes me dizzy. It’s got over one hundred thousand views and counting.

I jump out of bed and race down the hall toward Jasper and Leon’s room. Before I reach it, I hear the shower going. “Jasper!” I call from outside the door. No answer. I knock and call again. Is he alive in there? The water doesn’t muffle soundthatmuch. “Ah, screw it,” I say as I twist the handle and push the door open.

Steam escapes the small space as I step inside. My eyes dart from the closed shower curtain to the clothes scattered across the floor to a small plastic baggie on the vanity. My blood runs cold. I snatch up the pill. The video will have to wait.

The curtain rings screech against the rod. I meet Jasper’s eyes right before my gaze betrays me, dropping to his wet, sculpted body. Holy crap, he looks good.

“See something you like?” His smirk fades as he takes in the baggie in my shaky hand.

“What the hell is this?” I hold the bag up in front of him and watch his eyes shift to the wet tile floor. The silence stretches until I can’t stand it. “Jasper? Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” he finally answers as he reaches for the towel on the rack. “As much as you yelling at me normally turns me on, can we justnotright now? I… can’t.”

I close my eyes, let out a long breath and release some of my initial anger. “Fine, but you’re not getting this back.” I shove the baggie in my pocket until I can get rid of it later. His head snaps up, his eyes wide. Something in my chest cracks from his look. When I speak again, I soften my tone. “I’m here for you, okay? You can do this.”

“You don’t know that.” With the towel wrapped low on his hips, he bends to pick up his clothes.

I place my hand on his bare shoulder, offering some connection, hoping he can feel the truth in my words. His hand covers mine, warm and calloused from years of playing guitar. “Yes, I do.”

We stand frozen in that moment, the steam curling around us mirroring the cloud of emotions in my mind. There’s too much that we refuse to talk about. Fear and hope and want all tangled up in a jumble of unspoken truths.

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